Fluke

I hadn't expected to be thrown right back into the mix so quickly. I thought that, at the very least, I would be chewed out first, reprimanded for the harm I'd done by simply being present last time, but there was no such delay, no such attention paid to me beyond that simple first affirmation that I'd decided to join the group once again.

They were gathered in pairs, I noticed, and it seemed to, that so would I.

"Myzkezia!" Jeong Jeong called out, retrieving the attention of a brown-haired girl who seemed to have been as of yet unpaired. "You will train with him"

The girl hardly needed to say anything to make her disappointment clear, but she clearly knew the master more than I did, and so kept her disappointment to herself as she simply grimaced, though quickly removed the look on her face, and bowed in submissiveness.

The master stopped paying attention to her, instead returning to his other students to bring them back to attention, one such being Match, whose name he called out, now finally drawing his attention away from me. He was far from happy to see me here. I still remembered the threat he'd–that there'd be consequences if I came back, but last night had proven he didn't exactly intend to wait.

I kept my eyes on him as he listened to Jeong Jeong's demands, and turned his head away to focus on his own sparring partner that he'd been paired with, some other inner city kid I didn't recognize.

"Hey," a voice came from behind me, belonging to the 'Mykezia' I'd seemingly been paired with, still not quite knowing just what was going on here. "Going to get started or gonna waste my time?"

Having one talk to me directly, that being a city kid, it was hard not to notice that there was a certain juvenile nature that even they possessed similar to us. I guess being from the inner city or slums didn't quite change everything.

I turned back to her to see her waiting expectantly and with clear impatience. I noticed she was a good deal taller than I was, certainly older too, though perhaps not by much. She almost reminds me of Miro, only more cleaned up and put together. Her arms are crossed, and the look she gives me is far from patient, bringing a flush I couldn't help to my face as I stammered to get to the task at hand, whatever that was meant to be.

A quick glance informed me that it was not only the new so-called "benders" such as Match and the few others from the 29th that I recognized who were paired with others for the sake of today's training, but everyone, which made us stand out less at the least.

My feet shuffled towards the girl with whom I'd been assigned.

"Going over Shìfǎ today," she said. "You got any idea what that is?"

I did not, and was only capable of shaking my head, much to the girl's annoyance. "Fine, just…," she searched her head for what to say, clearly not very accustomed to nor enthused with teaching. "Just follow what I do."

What followed was a form of movements so complex and so precise that it already would have been impossible to mimic even without the addition of conjured flames that accompanied it. Each step was with intent, each kick and punch right on a certain mark that she'd clearly predetermined for herself. And as accurate as each one was, all movements of herself blended perfectly into one another. Where I was struggling to remember the last move, she seemed to know precisely what came next in the form as though it wasn't a matter of memorization for her, but simply of following the flow and rhythm.

In real time, the form seemed to last only around a minute and a half, but to me, it could have lasted five times as long, and by the time it was over, I was struggling to remember just how she'd begun. She stopped, lowering her arms in front of her with a deep exhale that seemed to be the common form of calming down around here judging by the others, and so turned to me.

"Alright," she said. "Try that."

"Try that?" I scoffed. "All at once."

"It's a form, so yes. All at once.

There was no point arguing. She gave me the small segment of floor that she herself had been practicing on.

Whatever effort I could put into attempting to imitate her was bound to be a total failure, though I gave myself some credit in, at the very least, being able to make it almost three seconds before I heard "wrong" from my side.

So I started from scratch, maybe making it four seconds now until I got the same reprimand from her, and so I started it again, making it even less time now until I was stopped with a similarly disappointed, "No."

"No shit it's wrong," I felt myself inclined to exclaim. "How the hell do you expect me to memorize all that in one go?"

"It's not about memorization. It's a form. It's about flow."

"What fucking flow? What are you expecting from me?"

The girl, Mykezia, narrowed her eyes before shooing me off of the floor, which I gladly obliged to, allowing her to take my place. I took it she was about to repeat the form, and so I paid attention, hoping perhaps that I might at least commit the first ten seconds to memory, but when she started, she was doing something completely different. Sure, it felt the same, and I recognized some movements in there, but it was far from exactly what she'd done before. She only conjured up the flames a fraction of the times she had before. Like I was watching the same dance, but the opposite partner.

"That was completely different," I defended.

"No," she asserted. "It wasn't."

"You started at a completely different point. You only bent fire half as much here as last time. Focused way more on blocking this time than punching or kicking."

"The moves don't matter."

"They seemed to matter when you said I was doing it wrong."

"There was no rhythm to what you were doing. No flow. You were improvising from one move to the next. You had no idea what you were doing."

I scoffed at that. "Really? No shit."

She didn't seem amused by the comment on my part.

"The entire point of firebending is to keep the energy flowing inside of your body." She demonstrated as she spoke. "You channel it through the form, nurture it, give it air, fan it, like a flame, and when it's ready, you release." She concluded with a punch that emitted a ball of flame in my direction that I had to dodge away from for it to dissipate just a foot in front of where I'd been standing a moment ago, rather close for comfort.

It was a charming demonstration, but one key aspect of her argument was missing.

"But I'm not a firebender. I can't make fucking fireballs like that."

"You so sure of that, then why are you here?"

My eyes were drawn to the figures training behind her, and my focus adjusted on Match where he himself trained with his own sparring partner. Now in the light of the room as opposed to last night, I could see that he'd hardly come out unscathed, Danev having put up quite the fight in defending himself and me. In contrast to me though, Match was far more comfortable with the move set, having been doing this, obviously, far longer than I had. There were still no flames from his end, a relief, but also to be expected. What are they expecting from us?

Her head turned to follow my gaze, and she noticed where my sight went quickly enough, one of the other 'newbies.'

"Firebender or not," she said. "Concept's the same. Your energy, your chi, it's the same either way. When you let it flow, move with it, you fight well. When you fight against it, you freeze, and you die."

"So what? I'm just supposed to feel it inside of me and move with it?"

"Move with it first, then make it learn to move with you. The fire already exists inside of you. You just learn how to make it move as you wish."

"Spoken like a bender."

"Which you are."

How do they still not get it? There were no benders in the slums. Janick had been the one exception, but with him working with the Earth Kingdom as he was, the odds were good he wasn't even from Citadel. "There's no benders in the slums," I felt the need to say yet again, as though saying it anymore would make it finally clear. There was no reason for me to be here beyond the fact that I wanted to learn at least something, get some sense of how to defend myself better.

"That so?"

The hell? "Yeah," I said as little more than an exasperated breath.

"So what about everyone else here?"

My eyebrows raised on their own, trying to understand just what she was getting at, though it seemed she took notice of the intent behind my words and actions quicker than I did for her.

"You really think we're inner city, don't you?"

No way. I'd known something seemed off, familiar, but it couldn't be that, right?

"You're street kids too."

She smirked. "Now you've got it." The words caught in my mouth as I tried to figure what to ask first, bouncing back and forth between no shortage of things. Once again, she read my intent before I could hope to ask. "Got picked up a while back when the Sages first showed. Gave us tests to see who could bend and who couldn't."

My mind went to the day Shyu had me alone in that room, the candle, rock, and glass of water in front of me. Was that-no. Couldn't be. "So why didn't they pick us "other benders" up? Why the late arrivals?

But no. They had. Or at least, Shyu, he'd tried to. He gave me that choice, asked me if I wanted to leave. I hadn't known what he was talking about. I thought it was some kind of test. I said I felt safe with the Hornets, that I wanted to stay, and I did, and he left. If…if it was true then, I could've gotten away from it all. I could've gotten away from that war, from everything, I could've never stuck my nose out too far and Miro, the Rats, the Hornets, Mishi, Reek, they'd all be alive.

I could have left.

"They didn't want to pick up you gang kids," Mykezia said. "Guess they weren't done using you guys yet."

But there were still pieces that didn't fall into place. Why was I only hearing about that now? Where had these others been this whole time?

"Why haven't we ever seen you before? We in different units?"

She shook her head. "Nah. 29th also, but we're already better than you so they don't want us together. Would slow us down." She didn't bother making it seem like those were their words and not hers. She whole-heartedly agreed with their assessment, and so did I. "We earned our place here, and if you want to do the same, stop bitching, and listen to what the rest of us have to tell you." They were on our side, or, if not that, they weren't against us. We were no different after all, at least, we all came from the same place. They knew what it was like.

So, I sucked it up. If there was anybody worth listening to, it was her. She cleared the floor for me, and I got back into position, ready to start again.

Only failure would follow, of course. Rejuvenated though my spirit may've been, that hardly did anything for actually absorbing a concept as foreign as this. Instead, it only left me exhausted to the point that I was hardly able to stay awake during regular company drills and class time. My consciousness faded in and out as we were taught about Fire Nation culture, the value of 'honor' in their society, such things called 'Agni Kais' where firebenders would duel one another when they felt their honor had been shirked.

Perhaps it was on account of me only processing half of it with how tired I was, but it made no damned sense to me. I would've liked to think I could get some semblance of rest back at the barracks, but in seeing that Danev was nowhere to be found, likely still recovering from his wounds in the Citadel military clinic, I knew I couldn't let my guard down, especially in light of Match visiting my bunk once again that day, though thankfully before lights out.

"Match, come on," I thought I could hear one of his Rat compatriots say to him before he'd reached my bunk. He ignored the warning, if that's what it was, and instead planted himself directly in front of me, saying, "I thought I gave you a warning."

"Didn't seem like you planned on waiting," I said, my bruises and cuts standing testament to that."

Match scowled. "You go back, you're dead. Don't got Danev to protect you now, do you?"

Another warning I wouldn't listen to. It hardly mattered anymore. I narrowed my eyes, which only made him all the more angry. He'd slipped up in attacking us last night. He would make my life hell whether I listened to everything he said, or otherwise. My best bet now was to catch up to him as quickly as I could, and at least stand a chance of protecting myself.

"Come on, Match," the Rat at his side, Gan, in my own armored brigade, advised his gang leader. "Not worth it."

Match glared one last time at me, and turned, taking the words of Gan under advisement, who afforded me a passing glance as they left, not angry, but neutral, undoubtedly the nicest look I'd gotten from a Rat since coming here.

Whether they seemed in total approval of Match's actions or not, I didn't doubt that they would still stand at his side if things came to blows, and so those next few nights, I could hardly sleep, at least not at night. I would sneak winks where I could during meals, class, or free time before lights out. It was hardly enough, but I'd slept less in the past, back in the streets. I would make due.

Jeong Jeong's lessons hardly got easier either. They constantly moved, constantly shifted, constantly got harder, and though I was getting better, beginning to find some sense of rhythm as judged by the occasional compliment amidst Mykezia's many reprimands, I was hardly improving at a fast enough rate. Not compared to the others.

And that much was made more than clear enough when there was a commotion on the other side of the room. It'd come right after I'd managed to go an entire thirty seconds with what Mykezia proudly called a consent flow that I looked over to where Match and his partner were, attracting the eyes of many. He moved with that exact same flow, only better, more consistent, more purposeful. He wasn't following the flow of energy; it was following him, and when he made that last punch of his form, the room lit up.

Flame emerged in front of his fists, and if I wasn't ready to take his threats to heart before, I was now.

I was fucked.

And I really was beginning to wish that Danev was here right now.

Danev

My head was pounding.

It was hard to make out any details of my surroundings past the daze that was my head other than the fact it'd become noticeably brighter around me.

I could make out voices beyond as I was rolled down the hall on what seemed to be a bed on wheels by the feel of it. At least, I assumed that's what I was on considering I was both comfortable and feeling the earth shake beneath me as the ceiling rolled across the blur of my vision above.

The voices talking to one another were a man's and a woman's. The man's voice sounded like the same one I'd been able to hear in the barracks before things really got incomprehensible for me. I took it that it'd been some officer, perhaps Eemusan, though it hadn't sounded like him. Then again, hardly anything had really sounded like anything to me in those moments, and so it was hard to determine just what was what as the corners of my vision faded to black and grew towards the center.

This continued until the scope of my vision was only a pinpoint, and as comfortable as the bed beneath me was, something very keenly told me not to get too comfortable nor fall asleep. Or maybe that was just the female's voice that almost sounded familiar and I think may have even mentioned my name once or twice, though I couldn't be sure of that part.

By the time things in my head really became clear again, I was immobilized. I thought at first that the adrenaline had finally worn, but it was a bit more than that. There was a series of bandages around my right arm, and my left leg was suspended from the ceiling. My head still pounded. When I reached up, there were bandages up there too. When I tried to shift my body to get a better angle to try and pry them off, my entire body was restrained. I looked down at my torso, and yet again, more banjos.

Well shit.

I'd known I'd gotten it bad last night, but somewhere in the middle of it all, I'd lost all sense of just how much of a beating I'd taken, too focused on returning the favor and getting them off of Fluke. I wondered how he was doing, but from the last thing I remembered, when the Fire Nation had broken it all up, he was standing when I wasn't, so I wanted to figure it was somewhat better.

But he was still undoubtedly in worse a condition than the Rats who'd received quite the beating, but'd had numbers on their side, thus seeing the punishment they received distributed across them.

They'll be out for blood, I already knew. Even after we covered their asses. Sure, telling the Fire Nation may have gotten them off our backs, but at the cost of earning us the ire of all those who didn't yet hate us. I'd seen Fluke, on the verge of foreswearing any such "street law," and'd stopped them. The others, the 29th, all slumdogs, they needed to know that Hornet or not, we were still just like them, that we all held to the same origin, and like Rulaan had said, we needed to stick together.

Now if only they would see things that way.

But for the moment, they didn't, and as long as that was the case, Fluke was still in danger, so I tried moving regardless of everything that was keeping me in place, reaching up to try and free my leg from where it was suspended. The only noteworthy effect that had was my bandaged arm clumsily knocking aside some tools that sat on a night table to my right, creating a commotion that stood in particular contrast to my otherwise dead-silent surroundings.

I wondered if it'd gone unnoticed, and so returned to trying to free my leg before I'd have to figure out, but unfortunately for myself, it seemed that I was hardly the most physically capable individual in the medical wing at the moment as the question of whether my escape attempt had been noticed or not was answered.

Granted, the answer could've been far worse, primarily as I recognized what, or rather, who the answer was. Months ago, when I'd nearly gotten myself killed by the Fire Nation, where Meeko verifiably had been, and Aden likely as well, she'd been the nurse to attend to me and bring me back to life long enough for me to be able to make a deal with the devil.

It was that same Nurse–Oreke.

And she'd been the first, and so far, only person from the Fire Nation who'd treated me like a real human being.

My effort to escape came to a sudden halt as soon as I spotted her standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching as though waiting for me to stop.

I did.

"You know you're only going to break your leg worse if you keep that up."

So it's broken. Shit.

I lie back against the pillow with an annoyed groan.

"Didn't know any better," she said, now entering the room, "I'd say you'd tried stealing from the Fire Nation again."

"Think I'd get so lucky a 2nd time?"

She adjusted the straps holding my leg up, re-straightening the mechanism that I'd put a considerable effort in deconstructing. It was not a pleasant feeling. "You? Maybe."

I let out an exhale once she was done, and she stepped back. I wondered if she planned on reprimanding me again, but instead, what came next was rather surprising. "Didn't think I'd be seeing you again." The feeling had been mutual. I remembered the day we'd parted ways, and how much we'd talked that night before Captain Zar'un and his armed escort had brought me back to Riu and the Hive. I'd been near positive that I would die that night, but Riu had held himself back, I'd lived, and from it all, so many others had died.

How many would have died anyway?

In due time, likely all regardless, me and Fluke included. I'd done what I thought I needed, but'd hardly thought I'd live to see it through, much less see Oreke again. I was glad for it though.

"We heard about everything happening in the slums. We could see the fires from here."

"Doubt you heard about 'everything," I said, imagining that if they'd heard about the extent of the shit we'd done to cleanse the streets of one another, we would exactly be so "welcome" into their army. Or maybe that's exactly why they wanted us.

It was hard to know, hard to think, hard to do anything. Everything hurt. She didn't respond to my statement, likely knowing it to be true. She was unhappy, one could tell easily enough, and I gathered that a good deal of it had to do with the fact that it was the Fire Nation that'd sent me right back into the fire for it all to go down the way it had.

"You were the first street kid I had here," she said, seemingly trying to change the subject. See you guys almost every day now."

"We lose our charm?" I asked with a grin, also trying to change the trajectory of the mood, seeing that, at present, it was going nowhere good.

She scoffed, now turning to pick up the tools that I'd scattered in my vain effort to escape. "Hardly. They've made my days pretty interesting actually. Hardly get a chance to breathe anymore without you people nearly getting yourselves killed every few hours."

"What do you mean 'you people?'"

She looked at me, cautious, as though wondering if she's earnestly just offended me.

"I'm kidding," I added, wanting to ensure she hadn't taken it to heart. "Doubt the others are half as interesting as me though."

"There you're right. A sprained leg, lesioned arm, cracked rib, all from one night definitely the most interesting case to come through here."

"Not quite what I meant."

She picked up the last of the tools that'd fallen. "Oh don't worry. You're still the first. Instantly makes you special."

I rolled my eyes.

"But I still do have about a dozen other recruits complaining for me to up their meds, so please don't try to escape again."

And it was time to get serious again. "I can't stay here."

"So you can get your ass kicked again? Spirits happened to you anyway?

"Got jumped."

"Know why?" she asked, pulling a chair up for her to sit, her intent seemingly having shifted from getting to these 'other patients of hers.'

"Guess some people weren't very happy about what happened in the streets."

"Gangs?" she asked, inquiring about a world of which she knew nothing.

I nodded.

"Should look after yourself better then," she said, clearly insinuating the virtue in sticking around, for a while longer at least.

"Not just me."

Then she put the pieces together a bit better. Her eyes registered that she understood, but her answer signified otherwise, or perhaps that she was placing her priorities differently. "Well, you'll do no good for him way you are."

"I've had worse."

"I imagine you have," she agreed. "But you run miles, do your drills, try training like you are now, only gonna get worse."

I hardly doubted her there. I had enough experience of trying to push myself after sustaining injuries on the street to know that to be true, recalling a rather vivid time I'd broken my leg and proceeded to take on additional responsibilities as a courier for the Peacemakers in order to get in closer with them. All for the sake of helping Riu kill them all when the time came. I'd only hurt my leg worse, becoming nearly imobile for a month, and Riu'd had to pick up my slack lest the Peacemakers think I'd screwed them over and take the leg entirely as recompense.

Different times. Simpler too. It almost made me smile to think back on it, but I was too frustrated with present circumstances for that. I laid back onto the bed.

"You should eat something," Oreke said, standing.

"What meal is it?" I asked, having no way of knowing how long I'd been asleep nor any window to tell what time of day it was.

"Dinner," she answered. "What d'you want?"

"There's a menu?"

She chuckled. "Not really. Just curry for today I think."

My mouth was watering already. If there was one thing that I could never bring myself to complain about regarding the Fire Nation, it was the food. "Works for me," I answered. And she was off.

It was no fun being confined to a single place. It felt no different than being a prisoner, except that the only thing keeping me here was myself and my inability to heal quickly enough. Oreke told me that a desire to get better would make the body work quicker, and desire there was plenty of, but progress, hardly enough.

The only thing that kept me sane was Oreke, and in more ways than one. On one account, she kept me relatively in the know of how Fluke was, and by that, I meant that she was in the know regarding injuries, amongst which Fluke was not included. There were sprains, broken limbs from time to time, and heat exhaustion too which was no surprise entering the thick of Summer as we were. I gave her Fluke's given name by the Fire Nation as well as a physical appearance, but it seemed that he'd made no appearance at the medical wing, which was a relief all things considered. If I didn't know that visits of recruits to the medical wing weren't allowed, I might have been partially offended by it, but they were, and regardless, the kid had enough to worry about as it was.

On the other count of how Oreke kept me sane in my time there, well, she was good company all things considered. Her visits were long, thorough, and more than welcome. She even took her meals in the same room as me or helped me with the work I was delivered from the classes I missed to ensure that my mind didn't decay as much as my mind from time to time when there were no other pressing matters calling her attention. It seemed that indeed, as she'd said, I qualified as 'special,' but I doubted it was just a matter of first come first serve. I considered asking for an elaboration, but decided against it, instead setting on promising to repay her for the meals if I ever got leave.

"You asking me on a date?" she asked, as though I was supposed to know what one was.

"Am I?"

"Since unranked personnel aren't allowed to mingle, then no, you're not, but there's no reason we can't wind up in the same restaurant in the city when you get your leave. Eventually."

Leave. It was a term that'd been thrown around for the months we'd been here, a promise of what our hard work would lead to–the chance to be viewed as actual residents here, and perhaps see the city around us for something that wasn't an endurance run. Maybe it would come, maybe it wouldn't but it seemed I already had plans.

"Would be a nice coincidence," I said, rendering it, as she'd put it a 'date,' or rather a 'non-date' if we were being careful.

About a week of time passed before I was able to use my leg again without need for a walker, still relying on a crutch however.

We walked across the medical wing, and I caught occasional glances of other recruits who I recognized in rooms of their own being attended to or otherwise recovering at their own appropriate paces. I saw Aimuro with a cast around his hand, caught a glimpse of Rinu lying on his stomach, and saw Mano with a bandage wrapped around his forehead, clearly not being treated too well by his earthbending training. I wondered if Fluke had tried with firebending again, and if anything had come of it. I hoped so, for his sake. Whatever help he could get, the better, and if he was a bender, which I doubted, then he would be able to protect himself better than I ever could. But once again, there was a slim chance of that.

"Mind if I ask something?" I asked Oreke as she helped me walk.

"Hrmm?"

"Any chance some of us slum kids are benders?"

She paused. "You're kidding, right?"

That verified it. "Ridiculous, I know."

"No," she laughed. "We already have over three dozen of you?"

What? I asked just that.

"Yeah. Got them months ago. Sages picked 'em up. Months ago. Almost half a year."

"Slum kids?" I asked for verification. She nodded, re-emphasizing the three dozen that they were. She explained to me that they were kept separate from the rest of our unit, already educated, better trained, damn near regular Fire Nation citizens as far as anybody was concerned, trained, assimilated, domesticated.

"Got plenty of slum kids before you," she said, making me wondering if my rank of 'special' in her mind was really a matter of being first, or if that'd just been a joke on her account, but it raised another question, far more pressing, one that'd been eating at the back of my mind for a while.

"The other street kid. Hornet. The one I came in with. Aden. What about him?"

She looked at me. The expression wasn't a good one. I'd pretty much counted on it a while ago. It was hardly a surprise at this point. "When did it happen?" I asked as a soft exhale.

"What? No. He's still alive."

What?

I looked up. "Where?"

The fact of the matter was that he was alive, but no more than he had been months ago when he'd first come in, still in a vegetable state, given air through a mask around his mouth, needles sticking in his arms that kept him nourished and hydrated.

"Fire Nation mostly forgot about him. Considered pulling the plug a few times, but…there's the chance he might be a bender, so…"

So that was our worth. The chance we might be special. I knew Aden long enough to doubt that he was, just like me, but if the Fire Nation's lack of understanding of that kept him alive any longer, then all the better.

So he was alive, though dead to the world but for the nurse that ensured he stayed fed, watered, and oxygenated. That same nurse that got me through the week and a half that I was out of condition, and reminded me through the example of the slum kids that'd made it before, as well as by the example of herself, that maybe there was a chance in here.

I forced myself at the end of my tenure at the medical wing to walk myself back to my company without a crutch, much as it pained me, and of course only after Oreke and I reminded one another of our 'coincidental' run in that would happen if and when I was given weekend leave at a restaurant called "Imperial Bowl," due North. I hadn't the slightest idea of what it was, but the thought of such a run in was a comforting enough thought to push me through the pain on the way to the dining hall as I knew it was the 114th's evening meal time.

My entrance hardly went unnoticed, but in fact, seemed to quickly become the talk, or rather whisper of the meal hall. Eyes were drawn towards me as I placed one deliberate step after another towards the meal line, forcing myself not to return the notice until it was one glance in particular that I took notice of. It was Eraim. And he nodded, without saying a word, and turned back to his meal.

And there it was–just the slightest chance that maybe, in spite of everything, things could work out here.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Captain Zar'un

They were starting to snap. That was clear. Even the thickest rock, when enough pressure was applied, would begin to develop cracks. Those cracks could be wedged open, further, greater. It was a matter of finding the cracks when they were small, knowing where to apply the pressure, and where to drive in the wedge. It was an art more than anything else, and one that Zarrow had impressively developed over these last two weeks of interrogating two agents of what was perhaps the most secretive organization on the continent.

And though the task was far from easy, it seemed that Sergeant Zarrow had a unique skill when it came to getting results. Reports of his progress were mostly the same, saying that it was ongoing, but when results came, there were plentiful as, from what I'd gathered, his last initiative had been to separate them, feed them conflicting misinformation, and turn them against one another.

The process, making one believe the other was cracking, sew distrust and create the sense that the first to provide useful information would be the one to benefit. The agents trusted one another though, and relied on discipline, so that, unfortunately, hadn't worked as hoped, but that didn't mean it was the end of it all. Another method, assuring that disobedience of one would result in pain for the other, but the agents were disciplined, knowing their objective, what was important, and what wasn't, and as far as they were concerned, they were expendable, but their information they held, less so.

But there was the beginning of a crack that Zarrow had observed. The agents were becoming worried for one another's sake, not so much regarding pain, but ability to hold on. The way Zarrow had done so was rather clever. After presenting the deal of how failing to answer questions would result in pain for the other, he'd begun torturing the one we called agent 1, the bearded one, without justification. No information had been withheld from agent 2, the clean-shaven one, but the punishment was dealt regardless until, following a 'questioning' with agent 2, it stopped.

Agent 1 had been aware that a follow up questioning would ensue with agent 2, and so when his punishment didn't come, the insinuation was obvious–he'd croaked.

I'd read the transcripts. A few times over for good measure.

"What did he say?" agent 1 asked.

Zarrow did not answer, prompting the same question to be asked again with, similarly, no answer but for Zarrow throwing him half a roll of bread. The agent did not go for it, only looking up at the sergeant with the same question on his face.

"You can thank Chehang for his cooperation later," Zarrow had said. The name, the result of a gamble, a 50/50 chance that was due to the discovery of a nametag that'd been found amongst their possessions, clearly belonging to one of the agents, but just who, unclear. The name belonging to the other would have been a catastrophic blowback, but, sometimes, chances needed to be made, and I could just imagine how relieved Zarrow had been to see the surprise on agent 1's, later revealed as Hamu's, face.

From there, the rest had come easier. The crack had formed, and Zarrow dug the wedge in, hammering it further with every interrogation that was held. Each report held more information than the last, one after another, using the information given by one to lure more out of the other. Their names, objectives, gangs associated with, slowly, more and more details becoming unveiled little by little.

I observed the latest session now, witnessing the artistry first hand as I listened in, standing in the same room, concerned at first it might interfere with the process, though the sergeant assured me a new face would give the needed extra dose of fear to extract more information from the agent he questioned now, number 2, also known as Chehang.

"He told us about the gangs," Zarrow said. "Rats, Komodo Rhinos, Vulture Hawks, people you've been working with too across the city."

The agent looked down, ashamed, as though wondering how they'd been driven this far. He shook his head, refusing to cooperate. From what Zarrow told me, they often started this way with this level of reluctance. That always ended up changing however, according to him.

"Gave us names," Zarrow continued. "Rinah, Mato, Asaru, Sa-" he paused. "You fill in the others for me. Wouldn't mind seeing if he wasn't bullshitting me."

The agent sighed, finishing the last name that'd only been half spoken, saying, "Saoru." I held the list of names as they appeared on the latest transcript, reading them over as they were recalled in a different order, but still the same names. Zarrow hardly had any need of the list, remembering the information by heart as he had to in a position such as this. "Jaomo, Mishi, Riman," and though the list went on, my name immediately focused on Mishi, the man who knew both these agents, and our very own Gyani.

"Mishi," Zarrow focused on as well. "Your point of contact with the Rats. He helped you distribute supplies to them, get them inside the city."

The agent nodded. Zarrow looked over to me, and walked over to look at the transcript though it was hardly needed. The next detail wasn't on there, though the agent didn't know that. We were working with what we'd gathered already, hence the details about Mishi's distribution operation, not taken from Agent 1, but from what we'd surmised and put together already.

"And the recompense he asked for was material compensation? Gold?"

Zarrow was fishing for a motive. Why Mishi had done it. I noticed the tangent he was going down and I listened, and listened close.

The agent began to move his head, paused, then shook it. "No," he croaked, clearly believing this something we already knew, just testing him. "Wasn't about money. Was," he coughed. "The boy."

That caught the attention of both Zarrow and me. We were hearing something now that we hadn't even gotten a hint of before. We looked towards one another, trying but failing to hide our surprise to one another, but it at least gave us the chance to render our faces neutral before turning back to the agent.

"What boy?" Zarrow asked.

The agent was still in the process of answering the previous question. "Said he would help us with the Rats if we…if we helped one of the Hornets get out." He coughed a dry heave. "Dumb brat just ended up getting taken by you people anyway."

"Who?" Zarrow asked, earnestly struggling to contain the question. "Who?"

The agent should've realized that this was information we weren't testing him for, but either he was too exhausted and worn out to care, or he thought this knowledge inconsequential. "Said we had to get the kid to Ba Sing Se." He scoffed, clearly not believing a word of what he was saying, but still speaking honestly in regard to what Mishi had asked of them. "Said that he could win the war."

"What is his name?" I asked, already knowing the answer before he said it.

"Aegis."

And there it was–the same damned name that'd been on my mind for almost two months now, throwing itself around in my mind incessantly since those same first letters I found, but I knew something now that I didn't before–he was here, in our custody, somewhere. The looks on Zarrow's face said the exact same thing–this could either be very good for us, or very bad. This needed discussion, immediately.

"Are we done here?" I asked.

The sergeant nodded, and the two of us left the room, abandoning the talkative agent to his own devices. I waited until we were far enough away that I knew we couldn't be overheard to give the order before it could be forgotten. "Verify with the other."

"Of course."

"See if you can pull a physical description. Make that your focus."

"And the gangs?"

"We got everything we will from them. Learn what you can about the kid. When you're done, dispose of them."

"Keep it quiet?"

I shook my head. These were deaths we could make use of, and were best not wasted.

"Been too long since we've had a public execution, especially for uniformed enemies."

"They were plain clothed, sir."

"We have some spare uniforms tucked away. Equip them, make it public. Need the streets to know we're the only power that matters here."

Sergeant Zarrow nodded, thought of something, and then asked, "May I make a suggestion, sir?"

He'd caught my interest. "Speak freely."

"Have the new recruits run security. Put them in uniforms, have them stand guard. They'll like the way it feels, being on the other side of it. Might make them appreciate just whose side they're on.

I smiled at the sergeant. "Make the proposal to the Colonel," I said. The sergeant, who'd more than earned his place back as a lieutenant, saluted, and turned to leave. Maybe in due time, I'd be in a position to give him something more than the title immediately beneath mine. But for that, something big was needed, and I believed I knew what. I'd thought it nothing more than misinformation at first, but whether it was Gyani, Mishi, or these soldiers, there was a consensus that there was something about this kid. As such, I needed to find him, this Aegis, wherever he was.

Fluke

I wanted to think I was getting better.

I mean, two weeks being at this, I supposed it had to happen sooner or later, not that the progress was very noticeable, but, supposedly, it was there.

The day was for Chuānxīn, otherwise called, 'pierce the heart.' As the name implied, the form was by no means a passive one, based entirely around aggression, though not planted, and not blind, but nimble and mobile.

There was a flow, that much was sure. I knew some of the moves weren't 'right,' or rather, weren't the same ones I'd seen demonstrated, but it was hardly about that, at least, I wanted to think so. When I knew something was wrong, I let myself adapt, fall back into a rhythm, and continue from there. Such interruptions were unwelcome, but hardly dead ends. I moved on from them, tried my damndest to feel what my body was telling me to do, this supposed inner energy or 'chi' feeling hardly different from the same instincts that'd saved me no shortage of time on the streets.

It was just a matter of listening to the same thing–not reason, but instinct, the body over the mind.

It left me out of breath, but with, at the very least, a look that wasn't utter contempt from Mykezia. I could hardly say the same thing about Jeon jeong, however, who'd stopped by us so as to gauge my progress, not exactly the most impressive.

"You move with your chi," he said at first, making me foolishly believe for an entire moment that he was approaching something of a compliment before he clarified himself and said, "You should control it. Not the other way around! It is why you are still incapable of producing flame." It was impossible not to notice Match, only a few yards away, quite enjoying this all. You surrender control to others when you should seize it, seize power for yourself! That is the basis of fire!" he turned to Mykezia, demanding, "Demonstrate!"

She hastily obliged, conjuring a ball of flame that developed above an outstretched hand.

"It is not her energy in control of herself, but her in control of it! She has seized power over herself! In doing so, she will seize power on the battlefield as well, destroy her enemy before she gives them the chance to do so to her!"

He was done with her, allowing Mykezia to lower her hands and fold them behind her back. She was afraid of him, and even when being used as a positive example of what to do rather than not, that fear persisted.

I'd gotten a good enough sense of that over the last few weeks to the point that I now shared in that fear. It was something to bond over if anything. She was hardly in a much better position than I was. She was capable of firebending, sure, but Jeong Jeong desired constant improvement, even from her, commenting more than once on how she wasn't progression as she should have been.

Even now, used as a positive example, she wasn't out of the woods, though he targeted me first in saying, "Learn from your betters. You'll find none others here." Then it was her turn. "And Mykezia, his failures are equal to your own. I expected better."

Then he was truly done, leaving to find somebody else falling below the mark.

"I'm slowing you down," I said once he was out of earshot.

Mykezia did not say anything of disagreement. She knew on some grounds, if not all, it was true. "Just run through it again," she said. I moved to oblige, considering in my head how I might just improve upon my failings.

I wasn't given the chance to begin before Match decided it was an ample opportunity to conveniently walk past where I was and say under his breath, "What a waste."

I would have been perfectly content with ignoring it, but it seemed that Mykezia's 'honor,' so to speak, had been shirked more by the comment, and so she said, using her innate authority as one of the more proficient benders of the class, "Get back to your pair."

Match looked up at her innocently and raised his arms as though trying to show antagonizing was not his intent. "I mean no offense to you, Mykezia. It's your fault you happened to get the shittiest misfortune of the draw. Of all the people to come out of those streets, you got the one least deserving."

"Fuck off, Match," I said, using a name I knew I shouldn't have used, but his Fire Nation one instead.

"Let it go," Mykezia instructed me, as though she hadn't been the first one to respond, now seeing that the main offense was being directed at somebody other than herself. It was easy for her to say, but I had to concede that she was right. It was hardly worth it. I tried to focus instead on reworking my foot positioning, getting ready to try and repeat the form.

Match, on the other hand, seemed less willing to leave things there. "Even that pathetic shit Reek deserved to live more than you. Instead he dies protecting your sorry ass. What a waste. Least of us as he was, still a damned shame he died for nothing."

However long I was perhaps meant to ignore it for, I couldn't go for a fraction of the time without reacting, and when I did, I did. He was close enough that he made it easy for me to get a swift punch in on his jaw, which should have been the first warning sign.

The punch connected, and it was hardly a weak one either. It knocked him back, though hardly off of his feet. Even if it may have been with more force than he'd been expecting, he'd been expecting the punch all the same. It drew the eyes of our immediate group around us even as Mykezia moved in to try and interfere, but by then, it was too late, as I was already in the process of yelling, "Your own fucking faults all of them are dead. You and your precious fucking Janick," and he was already in the process of uttering his next words.

He wiped his mouth, and before I could finish my exclamation, so declared, "You want to settle this then?! Agni Kai!"

What? I wondered with a scoff. It wasn't one of wondering what it was he was talking about. I knew precisely what an 'agni kai' was a duel fought between firebenders in the name of honor, which was what made it all the more ridiculous. What in spirits' name is he talking about?

It was ridiculous. Obviously. That wasn't our way, and besides, we weren't firebenders. At least,...

It was around then that I noticed that I seemed to be the only one drawing a bit of amusement from this all. The rest in the dojo were dead quiet, none daring to breathe a word.

They're not actually taking this seriously, right? I looked around, first turning behind me to look at Mykezia, who seemed just as confused, and whose gaze shifted from me to somebody else. I turned back to see that her focus had been drawn to Jeong Jeong, who stood in a growing emptiness in the room from which students were backing away before he could even announce, "Clear the floor!"

"Wait, what?" I couldn't keep it in my head this time. I was quite expressly asked out loud that time.

"An Agni Kai has been demanded!" he proclaimed, and it was a jest no longer. My heart froze in my chest. He had to be kidding. It couldn't be real.

"You can't be serious," I exclaimed. "He'll kill me!"

"Only if you allow him to."

"I can't bend fire!"

"Then you best learn quickly"

How can this be real? I looked back towards Match, who was already finding his space on the floor, in anticipation of me.

It was Mykezia who spoke up now, appealing to Jeong Jeong to say, "Master, with all due respect, he's not ready!"

"How many soldiers are ever truly ready to face death on the battlefield? None until they have shed first blood are ready for the death they will face. They adapt, they learn, or they die!"

Die. That word was stuck in my mind. Die. I'd learned enough about Agni Kais to know that they weren't ang scuffles in times of peace, just meant to give a quick beating and leave it there. This was live fire, this was danger, and, quite possibly, death if it came to it.

"To the floor!" Jeong Jeong resumed, now speaking to me. I looked back towards it. I wasn't ready for this. Mykezia wasn't right. I wasn't ready. I looked back to her, perhaps hoping she would have some last minute sage wisdom for me, but she seemed just as shocked.

"Mykezia?" I asked.

She stammered, looking back from Jeong Jeong to me to come back to her senses and say, "Just-just bear through it. Take a hit or two, and yield."

I wasn't sure I'd caught the last word. "What?"

"Yield!" she hissed.

"Face your opponent!" Jeong Jeong demanded. There could be no more delaying things, and I just barely had time to turn and approach the clearing before the gong in the dojo was struck, and it all began without any more a second's notice.

Match was quick on the draw, planting his feet and throwing a punch of fire immediately that raised the temperature of the room by no shortage of degrees, quite nearly burning the hair off my body as I dodged aside, practically throwing myself to the ground.

Get up, I told myself as I struggled to my feet. Acquire a stance. Follow the flow. Seize control of it. I had barely enough time to even think of doing that before Match followed through with a kick of fire directed precisely to where I'd been crouched on the ground. This one was much closer of a call, and the residual heat around me made me aware of the fire that was still dancing across the right sleeve of my robe.

I padded it out quickly, extinguishing the flame before it could grow anymore, but not before another blast of fire was sent towards me, and this one, not as easily evaded.

Contact was made, and I could hardly know what to expect. I'd never been hit by a ball of fire, much less that which was bent. It was as though I was being hit by a gust of wind with enough force to throw me back such as those that could lift entire sandcrete buildings in the slums during particularly bad storms, only that with it was carried a heat so intense that it drew all breath from me, subjecting my body to a pain that wasn't just one of impact, but one of stinging agony, the tendrils of flame tickling at my skin and flesh as I was thrown back and to the ground.

I would've liked to just lie there, but I couldn't. That was it. That was all I could take. I tried to get to at least something of a crouch, croaking, "I yield." Match was still in a fighting position by the look of it, not ready to finish me off just yet. Thank the Spirits. He'd heard. So why hadn't he answered. I tried to push myself off the round, residual pain making that all the more difficult, but I let out again, louder than before in the hopes I would be heard better this time, "I yield!"

Jeong Jeong called Match's given Fire Nation name, and asked, "Your opponent has yielded. Do you accept his surrender?" It was a matter of acceptance!?

"I do not!"

I looked off towards the sidelines, to where Mykezia was standing, a defeated look on her face, the sum total of her advice having just been thrown out the window. It would have been nice to know it could be turned down, but like Jeong Jeong had said, you learned things quicker when in the thick of it than anywhere else.

And odds were this would prove to be the last thing I ever would learn–that yielding during an Agni Kai did not mean it was accepted.

I struggled to get back on my feet, but I did manage, as Match was pleased to see. This was the rematch he'd been waiting for since the Grain Street. There was no Danev, no Chote, no other Hornets to stop him now. He wanted me dead, but clearly, he wanted me on my feet for it.

It was fortunate that the time he gave me was enough for me to assume some semblance of a stance in a form resembling Lǐnglù, 'leading the way' as it was called. It was my only chance now, to lead him to his own defeat, to wear him out, to make the effort not worth it. That was what Danev had told me, and I took that to heart. I needed to wear him out. That was my only chance, my only way.

He attacked once more, a simple punch, hardly following any form, just treating me as though I were a stationary punching bag, but stationary I was no longer. I didn't rely on my mind to tell me now where he would go next. I let my eyes perceive, let the heat build in the air, felt the energy of my body shrink away from it, and so followed it.

The blast was avoided, and if the look on Match's face was any indicator, quite seamlessly. He was hardly pleased, and so he followed up the attack, now assuming a form of his own, just that which we'd been learning today. And, just so, he made it his immediate intent to pierce my heart.

Two punches in quick succession, followed by a kick. He was done playing around. The two punches, conveniently, were close enough to one another that one dodge aside, following the flow once again, could account for both of them. The kick, however, was lower, and had tracked me, and so required leaping aside.

Match was growing impatient. He threw two more kicks, both dodged, though the second one barely, grazing my arm, before closing the distance. He was breaking form, switching now to Duǎndǎ, close combat. I tried to adjust, but the transition was quick and he was on me, a punch to where my head was just a fraction of a second ago requiring me to duck and leap back.

Match pressed his assault, another kick grazing my right leg, igniting the fabric into a small flame that I couldn't pay attention to. Not yet. My heart rate was intensifying, and fear was taking over. It was hard to listen to my body, to hear it talk, to feel the flow of energy, forced to account for every offense, to run, to dodge, to survive. But surviving wouldn't cut it. Not this time. Outlasting him, that was done. He was out to kill me, and so survival couldn't mean running and dodging. It wouldn't mean wearing him out. It couldn't mean listening to the instincts that told me where to dodge, where to leap, where to run.

It meant fighting back. It meant taking control.

And so when his next punch went wide, just barely over my head, I was done losing ground, I was done leaping away. The opening was there, his face exposed, thinking himself immune to a counterattack, and so I threw my energy forward, and the world erupted into flame around me.